Monthly Archives: May 2011

A couple weekends of going without a curling iron, enjoying media free evenings of talking and singing, gathering together in lit rooms, snuggling extra close to my daughter to warm-up our winter bed, finding my way to the bathroom by cell phone light, riding extra cozy with six in a buggy, shaking every woman’s hand at Sunday meeting, dusting off my German to translate sermons and songs, sitting on long row benches, sharing an after-church meal, staying up way-too-late singing favorite southern hymns at a Saturday night sing, dressing plain for true Sabbath on an at home Sunday, meeting countless immediate family in the respectful rotation of adoring visitors coming to see and stay with Mummy (the matriarch of the family), picking mint for a fresh pitcher of tea, running through pumpkin fields, shopping in bulk for dry goods, visiting a couple widows, ordering yards of fabric for quilting projects,…

have taught me that I need to

…talk less.

…say more.

…laugh more.

…love more.

…work hard.

…sleep well.

…sing while I cook.

…sing while I scrub floors.

…sing while I pull weeds.

…sing while I do laundry.

…don’t be in a hurry.

…enjoy my guests.

…enjoy my family more.

Family…
love my family.

Are we so different?

This was oldest son’s first day to mow around our house. He’s cut flat-land grass for his grandfather, but never our lawn. He has dreams of driving the tractor across our fields like his father.

We’re not big-scale farmers, but we’re country… gardens to plant, fields to mow. And what country boy doesn’t long to have a job… “a man’s job” as my boys say, “get outside and do some real work”.

Memorial Day sets me to remembering… generations of soldiers in my family… from the Civil War to this very day… the military bases here and overseas that I’ve called home… the familar sound of taps and gunfire…

As I explained the wars and conflicts to my older children this year our overview of U.S. History, it makes sense… war is necessary… securing and defending freedom, protecting family and homeland from enemies foreign and domestic, liberating those under oppression,…

… all it takes is a visit to Yad Vahsem … or a glimpse of any image of the holocaust to know that evil cannot be ignored.

Last night I dreamt about the Civil War… I was there, carrying jars of water… at the end of a battle, at the end of a war, when the final counts are done… there is a disconnect between necessary and the pain, the loss and death.

“Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me.” Lamentations 2:22

On the fields of the Western Front, after a few hours of truce December 24, 1914, having seen the enenmy face to face, did they wonder what it was all about… or did they know.

What are we fighting for?
What are we dying for?
What are we living for?

But, what about the pain… the wound, that rips open with a memory. How do you really forgive when bitterness hides and stikes at an unsuspecting moment… bites, and venom again courses through… again. or just anger… and WHY?

I know that Memorial Day only got me started … as I write this, I’m thinking about so much more. It is not just about calling my aunt this morning, more to comfort myself than her if I were honest.

“What is the source of quarrel and conflicts among you? …war in your members? …murder, fight, quarrel, wrong motives…” James 4

My own quest for “right”, “justice” … wanting to see it in others. Questioning my own motives. Why this passion for inegrity on all fronts?

This is why I write… to give myself a place to think, process all that is in my heart.

In the time I have typed all this, I’ve come full circle… I have my answer. The same answer the Lord gave me years ago when I was grieving the death of twins…

“O LORD, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty; Nor do I involve myself in great matters, Or in things too difficult for me. Surely I have composed and quieted my soul… hope in the LORD … forever.” Psalm 131

My heart was crushed by words today…
spoken and unspoken…
from today, from the past… mostly the yesterday words.

And, before all this God gave me words, specific words… (oh, thank you, God, for speaking today before all the other words washed over me, this burning heat and heart).

I read them. I rewrote them. I memorized them.

… Oh, God, You are too good to me. Even here, right now, You speak to me… without words. In the middle of writing these thought-words to You and to the void, You let me find my picture… my morning fog picture from another year… long lost, deleted, so I thought.

You brought that memory to mind just the other day and let me post about about it…

grassy feet and all…
so that now, when I am aching over human-words, You would speak grace-words over me, sing over me… “I love you. I know you. I see you.” without words… and the sweetest words of all…
“I am.” and “I am here.”

Thank You for Your words… promises, always kept. I know You will never leave me, never have.

Your WORD is a gift. I treasure it.
Words are a gift. I fear them. I love them. Oh, help me with words, with others’ and my own.

(For a bit of the story behind these last photos, see the post called “touch the mountains and they smoke”. I took them after the fog began to lift, and I ran back to the house to get my camera… wanting to keep a glimpse of that unforgetable morning.)

had to drop a few things off at a friend’s house; no inconvenience to take an evening drive… down quiet misty country roads.

peaceful. unhurried. only passed one car, and the driver was pulled off to the side of the road to chat with his neighbor.

simple things, seen and enjoyed. appreciated, acknowledged. driving along and looking out the window… even backing up to appreciate the view a little better.

Life is for Living!

What’s the hurry? Where are we headed?
…in a rush to the grave?

My husband took my sons and a few other boys camping the other weekend, on Monday, the father of one of the boys was killed in an accident… it was his older brother’s birthday. Left behind was a wife and three kids…

Life is fragile. Life is precious. Life is made of moments… memories made… or moments missed.

Miles and miles of country roads … more dirt than paved… connecting me with people, places…